


(shut your mouth) and run me like a river

by growlery writes (growlery)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Menstruation, Period Sex, Wells Jaha Lives, flirts briefly with canon but mostly ignores it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: Raven's birth control is acting up. Bellamy tries to be supportive. Wells just wants to be a good friend.





	(shut your mouth) and run me like a river

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fucking forever ago as a kink meme fill because I prompted period sex and then somebody else prompted period sex and then I was like that makes it totally better if I fill it myself, right? let's pretend this is in any way still relevant. 
> 
> also: this is set in a universe i've never fully fleshed out where wells lives and becomes bffs with raven when she makes it to the ground and learns mechanics things from her and basically becomes her apprentice and eventually bellamy/raven/wells happens. let's pretend that makes it any more relevant

Raven wakes, very unceremoniously, to excruciating cramping pain in her lower abdomen, and promptly buries her head in her pillow. 

She blames the Ark-prescribed birth control. There was a brief, blissful period of her life where her periods nearly entirely stopped, but lately she's been getting them every three weeks or so. It's fucking terrible, but this might be the worst development yet. 

Part of her thinks she should be able to grin and bear it; the pain in her leg is, objectively, a lot worse, but there's something about cramps that is deep and insistent and impossible to ignore. Her pain meds are right beside her bed, and she dry-swallows two pills, for all the good they're going to do. With a sigh, she steers herself into a sitting position and reaches for her leg brace, but she lets out a hiss of pain and pulls her hand back into a fist, nails digging into her hands. Sitting up makes it worse. Sitting up makes it so much worse. 

She gets dressed, somehow, after she spends five minutes swearing at her menstrual cup, and makes it to her workshop, eventually. Wells is already there, and he raises his eyebrows at her as she makes her way in. 

“You're late,” he says. “Not like you to slack off, Raven.” She hisses at him, and his grin promptly evaporates. “Is your leg acting up?”

“It's cramps,” Raven says, “actually.”

Wells frowns. “If it's that bad, you don't have to be here.”

“Thanks for telling me what I can and can't do, jackass,” Raven says, and Wells looks at her hard. 

“You know what I mean. You can let yourself take a day off.” Raven just looks back at him, and Wells sighs. “Of course you can't. What am I saying.”

“It's like you don't even know me,” Raven says breezily. “I'm fifty per cent stubbornness and fifty per cent raw, unrestrained genius.”

“Leaving absolutely no room for modesty,” Wells says, and Raven raises her welder in what is only really a threatening manner because it's a welder. “Look, you're not going to get as much done if you're wanting to hunch over yourself constantly.”

“You really don't know me,” Raven says, and Wells sighs. 

“At least let me go see if there's any of the remedy Lincoln made up left,” he says. “Miller was saying it worked like magic.”

“Fine,” Raven grumbles, “but I'm not going back to bed.”

“I wouldn't dream of suggesting it,” Wells says solemnly, and comes around the bench, stopping just short of her with his arms outstretched. She nods, and Wells hugs her very gently, and if she hides a dry sob in his neck, no one has to know. 

*

It turns out Lincoln’s remedy is some kind of cream. Wells brings a small tub of it back, as well as Bellamy, who has his I'm In Charge Of You Youths And Your Wellbeing And You Make It So Hard expression on. Raven scowls at Wells. 

“Betrayer,” she says, “mutineer,” and Wells holds his hands up. 

“I swear I didn't tell him, he was just there when I was asking about the remedy and demanded to know what it was for.”

Raven doesn't stop scowling at him, even though this does sound pretty plausible. It's just that Bellamy's concerned face is really very concerned, and they're going to have a fight about it, and Raven just really does not have the energy for that today. She can already feel her resolve crumbling, but she won't be made to feel ridiculous for wanting to do her fucking job. She just won't. 

Bellamy doesn't seem to understand this, because he says, “You know you aren't required to be here, right?”

Raven's hackles are already rising; if they're going to have this fight, she's going to give as bad as she gets, regardless of the energy she does or does not have. But then Bellamy continues, “You can work from your quarters if you want.”

Raven doesn't deflate, exactly, but she does feel her shoulders straighten out. “What about my tools?” she says warily, and Bellamy shrugs. 

“You'll figure it out,” he says. “We can move over the stuff that's moveable, and Wells can work with anything that isn't. I'm sure he can go one day without your expert guidance.”

It sounds so reasonable, Raven will, grudgingly, admit. “Fine,” she says, and points to her work bench. “All of this is gonna need to go.”

Bellamy nods, and they divide the materials between the three of them. Neither of them stop her from picking stuff up, and Raven doesn't want to feel touched, but there's definitely a stirring in her chest that isn't entirely unpleasant. 

Whatever, it's probably the wayward hormones. 

*

Once everything's been moved over, Raven clears her desk and gets it set up to work at. Wells and Bellamy help, and after Raven's gone over everything left in the workshop and what needs to be done, Wells heads back to get to work. Bellamy stays where he is, rolling the tub of cream between his hands. 

“You're supposed to rub it in,” he tells her. “Where it hurts. Works best if someone else does it for you, apparently.”

Bellamy still has his concerned face on, so she sits on the edge of her bed and rolls her shirt up. He sits next to her, still frowning, and unscrews the lid of the tub. The first touch of his fingers is light, uncertain. He rubs in small, regular circles, and his rough, calloused hands are a satisfying drag over her skin, but it isn't enough. 

“Harder,” Raven says, and Bellamy nods, presses his fingers in, cups her left hip with his free hand to keep himself steady. It feels... good, of course, pressure and warmth and the soothing cool of the cream, but there's something else, stirring at the feeling of hands on her skin. 

"Lower," Raven says, and Bellamy's fingers stutter. "Not like that," she says quickly, even though she would very much like it to be like that; wayward fucking hormones, seriously, "just, it doesn't really hurt right there."

"Where," he says. His voice is a bit hoarse; he clears his throat. "Show me."

Raven meets his eyes. Bellamy's gaze is steady, warm, and he's still holding her like an anchor, and Raven covers his hand with her own. They move barely an inch, but it's enough to light her skin on fire, and, oh, that's right where she needs it, right where the pain is, and Raven doesn't know if it's the cream or Bellamy's careful fingers kneading her like clay but she doesn't want it to stop. She lets out a sigh, long and low, closes her eyes to soak up this feeling, this warm content, and hears Bellamy laugh softly. She feels herself smile back, and opens her eyes. 

“Got any other miracle cures?” she asks, and he looks thoughtful. 

“I've heard orgasms are supposed to help, actually. At least, that's Miller's excuse for staying in bed with Monty all day once a month.”

Raven's eyebrows go up. “Are you propositioning me?”

“No,” Bellamy says, abruptly withdrawing his hand. “I was just passing on the suggestion, if you had someone you could go to for that.”

“I don't,” Raven says. Her and Wells have had a few sloppy drunken mostly platonic makeouts, and that's nice, but she hasn't gotten laid since that probably inadvisable post-Finn hookup with Bellamy. It hadn't been bad, exactly. It just hadn't been the right thing at the right time. What she needed was love, unflinching and unwavering, and she's gotten that since, but she's she wouldn't mind trying the sex again, honestly. “Unless you were propositioning me.”

Bellamy licks his lips, eyes darting to her mouth for just a second, and Raven's body jolts with a memory, Bellamy standing firm but unable to stop himself glancing at her bare chest. She really, really wouldn't mind. 

"Sure," he says, and Raven grins. 

*

They put down an old towel, one that Monroe borrowed to dye her braids a deep purple. Bellamy undoes her brace with none of Raven's practised precision and swears at the fastenings; Raven laughs at him and peels off her jeans with only a little more grace. 

"I don't have to be here, you know," he grumps, and Raven's going to toss something sarcastic back at him but he's slid a hand into her underwear, stroking gently just below where he'd been touching her before. 

"Glad you are," she breathes, instead, and Bellamy pulls back enough that she can see him smirk. "Cramps are fucking shit."

"Glad to help," he says. 

She's so wet already, and even if it is just the blood, it makes the slide of his fingers so much smoother. She could come like this, just like this, but she stills his wrist, pulls his hand free. It comes out red and bloody, and Bellamy makes a face at it, but doesn't move to wipe it off on the towel. 

"Bad?" 

Raven shakes her head. "I want you to fuck me."

Bellamy leans forward and kisses her, sweeter than Raven would have expected. He's got his hand on her face, stroking his thumb down her jaw, and as he deepens the kiss he sweeps down her neck, over her shoulders, down to her lower back. His other hand comes up to cradle her ass and she moves into it, pushing herself forward, settling herself squarely in his lap. 

This should feel familiar, and it does, kind of; Raven grips his shoulders and remembers that he likes it when she squeezes, and Bellamy finds the same spot on her collarbone that had made her moan before. But there's so much between now and the last time, the first time, and she feels all of it every time she meets his thrusts with a roll of her hips. She isn't jagged heartbreak and he isn't stony bravado, both of them determined not to break, clashing every time their bodies meet. They move together, and yeah, the rhythm's a bit off, a bit not good, but it feels good when Bellamy thrusts up and she rolls down, so good, and that's all that matters. 

She pushes forward, locks her arms tight behind his neck, wraps her legs around Bellamy's waist, enjoys the sigh that falls from his open mouth. She feels Bellamy's hand move to cup her ass, and that's when she twists, pulling them down to the bed, pulling Bellamy down on top of her. 

"Yeah?" he says, breathy but still trying to sound normal, even cocky, and Raven grins fonder than she means to and says, "Yeah, asshole."

"Like I said," he says, punctuating his words with a thrust, "I don't have to-" 

"Harder," she says, and Bellamy rolls his eyes but complies. 

Raven moans, and Bellamy's hips stutter, and Bellamy says, "Jesus Christ."

“Keep doing that," Raven says, and she sounds wrecked, she knows she sounds wrecked, but she doesn't care. This feels so good, and the pleasure is building in her, and if he keeps going just a little bit longer she's gonna- 

He stops abruptly, pulls out just a little, and Raven moans in frustration. Bellamy leans down and kisses gently in between her breasts and says, “Sorry. I was about to come.”

“So was I,” she says, can't help the petulance in her voice, and Bellamy kisses between her breasts again and slips two fingers inside her. 

*

“Glad to see you're better,” Wells says on her return to the workshop. “Did Bellamy take good care of you?”

Raven shrugs, purposefully light. “Does he know how to do anything else?”


End file.
